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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26469820">Down With Me</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/rolypoly_panda/pseuds/rolypoly_panda'>rolypoly_panda</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Umbrella Academy (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, CUZ THATS WHAT BROTHERS DO, Drowning, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Heavy Angst, Klaus Hargreeves Needs A Hug, Klaus Hargreeves Needs Help, Klaus Hargreeves-centric, Near Death Experiences, Protective Diego Hargreeves, Protective Number Five | The Boy, Whump, or near drowning really, they out here tryna save klaus</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 07:56:22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,509</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26469820</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/rolypoly_panda/pseuds/rolypoly_panda</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Klaus fucks up. <i>Bad.</i> A dumb decision leaves him stuck in a car crash, teetering over the edge of a bridge with the threat of drowning imminent. </p>
<p>Naturally, Diego and Five set out to save him. But there's a lot more at stake than just his physical well-being.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Diego Hargreeves &amp; Klaus Hargreeves, Number Five | The Boy &amp; Klaus Hargreeves</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>393</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Down With Me</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoulfireInc/gifts">SoulfireInc</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>All copyright content doesn't belong to me. All characters belong to Gerard Way and Netflix.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>In all fairness, Klaus had made </span>
  <em>
    <span>plenty</span>
  </em>
  <span> of dumb decisions while high. He had been reminded as such by his siblings, of course, but even he could recount some of those moments and think, <em>yeah</em>, that was stupid. It had almost seemed to be the natural order of the universe: just as animals would eat and Five would get </span>
  <em>
    <span>extra</span>
  </em>
  <span> pissy while hungover, Klaus would always be bound to do something moronic while high. But </span>
  <em>
    <span>also</span>
  </em>
  <span>, in all fairness, Klaus had no idea that his chauffeur for the evening was, in fact, </span>
  <em>
    <span>high as well.</span>
  </em>
  <span> When he had noticed, he had assumed it was a classic case of monkey-see-monkey-do, wherein the man had gotten toasted because </span>
  <em>
    <span>Klaus</span>
  </em>
  <span> himself had, indeed, been off the shits.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>As he had clambered into his friend-slash-shady-acquaintance-of-whom-he-played-friendly-with-to-get-cheap-drug's car at two in the morning, tingling in his extremities thanks to the alcohol and floating away from himself in part from the weed, the guy must have been jealous. He must have seen Klaus giggling and sighing blissfully and gotten envious. That was the only explanation Klaus could conjure up, because why </span>
  <em>
    <span>else</span>
  </em>
  <span> would he disappear behind the gas station building at </span>
  <em>
    <span>two in the morning</span>
  </em>
  <span> and then sluggishly return smelling of </span>
  <em>
    <span>something</span>
  </em>
  <span> that wasn’t legal? Of course, he had told Klaus that he had needed to “take a fat piss” and Klaus, whilst daydreaming in the passenger’s seat, hadn’t thought much of it.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>That was until they were teetering halfway over the ledge of a bridge, the undercarriage snagged on the railing and making little moaning sounds with every shift Klaus would make. Or, perhaps </span>
  <em>
    <span>he</span>
  </em>
  <span> was the one making all the fuss. He couldn’t tell.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Klaus licked blood off his lips: his nose was throbbing and bleeding from when the airbags had snapped in his face. And while he had </span>
  <em>
    <span>truly</span>
  </em>
  <span> wanted to crawl out of the tipping car and hightail his ass to safety, his leg had gone numb, trapped under something that Klaus couldn’t see nor did he </span>
  <em>
    <span>care</span>
  </em>
  <span> to see. What if the limb had been mangled beyond repair? What if it had been ripped off and </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> was why it was numb? Klaus didn’t want to see </span>
  <em>
    <span>shit</span>
  </em>
  <span> if that were the case…</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He choked out a breath, his ribs grating against the tight seat belt. His hands rattled in his lap as he fished his phone from his pocket and turned it on. The brightness punched him in-between the eyes, spreading a pounding from his forehead to the base of his skull. He moved to dial before he could vomit on himself.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Klaus blinked hard down at the fuzzy call screen. The numbers blurred as his finger hovered over the digits. His gaze flicked to the time.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It was nearly three in the morning.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Who was awake at three in the goddamn morning?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>His first thought was the police, but those were the last people he needed. Incarceration didn’t look to pretty, what with the impending apocalypse inching closer according to Five, </span>
  <em>
    <span>nevermind</span>
  </em>
  <span> the fact that he would be locked away for a </span>
  <em>
    <span>long</span>
  </em>
  <span> time and that, in itself, wasn’t ideal…</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Wait.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Klaus squinted at the too-bright screen.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>...Five?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Would </span>
  <em>
    <span>he</span>
  </em>
  <span> be awake?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The little gremlin always seemed to be buzzing around. Klaus could recount sneaking into the kitchen to grab food, and Five being there, making coffee, glaring at him before blinking away. It hadn’t mattered if it were three in the morning or the afternoon; they had </span>
  <em>
    <span>always</span>
  </em>
  <span> seemed to run into one another. Perhaps that meant something? Was Five stalking him? Klaus wouldn’t put it above the old man to trace Klaus’ every move. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Hell</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Five was always so paranoid that, if Klaus were to guess, he had put trackers on all of them. Leash them up like they were dogs. Sure, Five wasn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> kind of genius, but he could have bought some at a secondhand shop and refurbished them to put inside their cell phones--</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Something under his feet squealed.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Klaus whipped around, looking for the source, when he came face-first with his driver. His heart skipped on his tongue, because his</span>
  <em>
    <span> oh charmant chauffeur</span>
  </em>
  <span> was skewed like a hotdog at a bonfire, his head caved in around a strip of railing that had punched through the headrest, dripping gummy brain matter to the footwell's carpet behind them. If he were thinking straight, Klaus would have gagged. He would have lost whatever was in his stomach because it was <em>absolutely disgusting</em>.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>But instead, Klaus blinked, mind gone dumb as he mumbled out to himself, “When...d’that happ’n…?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He turned away, glancing down at the phone in his hands.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Who was he calling?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Diego?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Surely that guy would be up. He had always prided himself on being a vigilante by day, </span>
  <em><span>and</span> </em>
  <span>a </span>
  <span>vigilante by night as well, the workaholic.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He would be awake, right?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Klaus jabbed Diego’s number out slowly, watching as the numerals popped up across his screen</span>
  <span>. His fingers were numb, but his head was even more so. He felt himself beginning to make nonsense of things that should be sensical: the task of 'call Diego' became 'call Diego, but then watch the digits pop up on the screen'. Klaus pressed 'call' and waited. After a beat,</span>
  <span> it connected and began to ring. Klaus tapped speaker phone, letting his hand droop to his lap.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The dulcet sound made his ears whine.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Klaus sighed shakily.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The car groaned in the wind.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He mumbled, "C'me on...pick't up…"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Ringing.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Ringing, fading in and out, fuzzing his already stuffy head. He couldn't think, let alone focus on the sound. Klaus was aware of it, could recognize it, but…</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He wasn't sure what.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Where was he even going with that?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Come'n Diego…" Klaus hissed under his breath. "Pick it up, pick it up, pickituppickituppick</span>
  <em>
    <span>ituppickitup--</span>
  </em>
  <span>"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Hello?"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Diego's voice cut through Klaus' chanting, coming in tinny and distorted but still </span>
  <em>
    <span>there.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Klaus sobbed out a breath of relief. </span>
  <span>"Oho-</span>
  <em>
    <span>holy shit</span>
  </em>
  <span>, hi! How're you?" He giggled out around the tears clogging his throat.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Diego mumbled, "Dude, I can barely hear you. Where the hell are you? And at </span>
  <em>
    <span>three</span>
  </em>
  <span> in the mor--"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"I'm stuck." Klaus interrupted. It was a pure accident, his coherency slipping down the drain as he blabbed. "In a car. 'm stuck. It's over a bridge. Think 't's 'bout t'fall. A-And </span>
  <em>
    <span>get this:</span>
  </em>
  <span> I can't move!"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Jesus." There was a rustling on Diego's end. "Okay, okay. Uh, we're coming to get you. Where are you?"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Klaus spit out a laugh. "No fuckin' clue, man!" Cursing followed his response, then rattling, and Diego muttered something, something Klaus couldn't make out but he didn't really care because he couldn't focus enough </span>
  <em>
    <span>to</span>
  </em>
  <span> care. Sucking in a deep breath, he began, "And y'know wha's funny? I-I think 'm </span>
  <em>
    <span>paralyzed</span>
  </em>
  <span>. I-I actually can't move m'legs o-or anything. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>, everythin' hurts. Everythin' </span>
  <em>
    <span>hurts</span>
  </em>
  <span> and I can't </span>
  <em>
    <span>move--</span>
  </em>
  <span>"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Calm down." Diego cut in. "Just relax. We're on our way, okay?" A door slammed on Diego's end. He sounded short of breath. Those were all reassuring signs, right? Signs that he was coming, that he was running to him right now, right?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>That's what Klaus wanted to believe. It's what he </span>
  <em>
    <span>needed</span>
  </em>
  <span> to believe to will his stuttering heart to slow. </span>
  <span>He hummed, "Mhm. 'Kay." Closing his eyes, Klaus leaned his head back against the headrest. "Mhm."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>There was another voice on Diego's end, scratchy and high-pitched and--</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Turn here, Five. Yeah, here." Diego said distantly. "Tracker's flakey. I think...he's on Wacoma Bridge?"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Klaus cracked an eye open. He saw nothing. "Five? Y--...'s Five w'you?"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Just hang on, man. We're on our way. Where's the last place you were?" Diego asked.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Klaus lagged. There were too many instructions, too many questions, too many things coming his way and he couldn't remember if Diego said anything at all because what if Klaus </span>
  <em>
    <span>wanted</span>
  </em>
  <span> Diego to say those things? What if he never said them? That seemed far more plausible than the alternative: Diego, worried. Because Diego never worried about anyone aside from their mother, and even then, it was a shallow compassion at times. At times, Klaus wondered if Diego cared about anyone at all. Had his girlfriend on the police force mattered that much? Had--</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"</span>
  <em>
    <span>Klaus?</span>
  </em>
  <span>" Diego cut him off.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Klaus opened his eyes. He blinked. Nothing. He saw nothing.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Where was Diego?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Bro, you've got to answer me, okay?" Diego said. "Where was the last place you were?"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"G's station…" Klaus half-whispered, half-thought. He wasn't sure he said anything at all. Had he? Why was he saying anything in the first place…? "G-Gas...station…?"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Okay. Hang tight." Diego said.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Klaus giggled. "Y-Yeah. Sure thing, sir-ee." His brain skipped a beat, then, dragging him backwards, and he fumbled to say, "W--Ah...Wait…'s Five? Five with you?"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"We already went over this, Klaus." Diego said, quietly, as if he were unsure. But Klaus was confused as to what he could possibly be unsure about. That made no sense. Perhaps it wasn't uncertainty, then? Perhaps Klaus was shittier at reading people than he thought…</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He let his head loll against the headrest. "F--...Uh, can-can y'put...put Five on?" Klaus giggled. It sounded hysterical, even to his own eyes. Or, </span>
  <em>
    <span>no</span>
  </em>
  <span>, to his </span>
  <em>
    <span>ears.</span>
  </em>
  <span> His ears…</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>His ears felt warm. Was he warm? Did he have a fever? Their mother would be frustrated if he were sick, and their father even more so. Because being sick meant he couldn't go on missions. And not going on missions hurt the group as a while. </span>
  <span>Klaus shivered. Wind ruffled the edges of his hair, the longer strands tickling his forehead. He sighed out, "No, no...not that…" Now that he was focused, Klaus felt the </span>
  <em>
    <span>opposite</span>
  </em>
  <span> of warm. He was cold. Freezing, in fact.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"'No' what, Klaus?" Diego asked.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Klaus shrugged. He said, "Did--Is Five there? Can y'put him on--?"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"He's driving." Diego made a sound, something that sounded like talking but he wasn't talking to Klaus.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Right?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Maybe he was.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Klaus said, "Can y'put him on? Y--Uh, you make m'think I'm, like, dyin' or somethin'..."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>From a distance, Five shouted, "You're not dying! Shut up!"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Klaus blinked fast, eyes rolling as he scanned his surroundings to find…</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Nobody.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Where was Five, then?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Was he hallucinating again?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>In his lap, Diego said, "You catch that? You're not dying, Klaus. We're almost there."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>But where </span>
  <em>
    <span>was </span>
  </em>
  <span>Diego? Klaus tried to shift his heavy feet to maybe look for him down there, but they felt detached from his body, unmoving, left in the footwell as he floated further and further up, as if he were filled with helium. Like a balloon. He was a goddamn balloon. It made sense, though, because he always thought he looked like one of those long, thin balloons used to make animals at circuses. Whereas Luther was one of the large, round ones, Klaus was one of the skinny, tall ones. Those things were easy to manipulate. And loud and squeaky when twisted right. Bright colored, too. And <em>damn</em> if Klaus didn't love a nice shade of sherbet rainbow.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Klaus snorted a laugh. His head flopped back.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Oh man…" He sighed bodily. Numbly, Klaus felt himself shaking. "I--I think 'm bleedin'..."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Diego said, over the line, "He's slurring his speech pretty bad."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Klaus huffed, "'m not…"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Five cursed something. Then asked, loudly, "Did you call an ambulance--?"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Oh no, no, no, oh little one," Klaus interrupted, waving his hand weakly. "I--...No amb...ah...none 'f that…"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"</span>
  <em>
    <span>What?</span>
  </em>
  <span>" Diego snapped. "You didn't call the </span>
  <em>
    <span>police?</span>
  </em>
  <span> You were in a </span>
  <em>
    <span>car accident</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Klaus!"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Mhm." Klaus tipped his head forward, to his chin. "D'you wan'm't'g't pr's'n…?"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"I can't underst-</span>
  <em>
    <span>-There! </span>
  </em>
  <span>Turn here!" A screeching sound came from Klaus' lap.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Or, no.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>No, it was outside.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>White light had Klaus squeezing his eyes shut, his whole body tensing at the pain ripping through his skull from the brightness of it. He groaned, trying to turn away. The light dulled. A door slammed. Then another. Then--</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Klaus! Hey!"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Klaus glanced down at his lap. Diego sounded muffled, and </span>
  <span>as if he moved behind him. A tapping made Klaus flinch.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Hey! </span>
  <em>
    <span>Hey!</span>
  </em>
  <span>"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He rolled his head sideways, following the sound out, out into the darkness, out the window, then further, to the back window. His eyes snapped up to meet Diego's. "Oh…" Klaus swallowed around thick tears. "Wha--?"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"We're getting you out." Diego freed a knife from his belt and jammed it against the back window between the glass and the door. Something clicked and Diego had the back door open, crawling in slowly and sliding in along the seats to reach the middle. He stretched in between the front seats. "Hey, man." His eyes flicked up to the impaled driver, then down, through the windshield, to the precipice of nothing.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Klaus snorted a laugh. "P-Pretty fuckin' sc-scary, huh?"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Uh, yeah…" Diego swallowed thickly. He twisted around. "Five! Stay out there, man. Car's going to tip if anyone else gets in…" As if comically on queue, the car groaned, dipping down with gravity and scraping along the broken railing. Klaus' heart clogged his throat. He wheezed. Diego slammed back against the middle seat, spitting out, "</span>
  <em>
    <span>Jesus fucking Christ…</span>
  </em>
  <span>"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>As soon as the car stilled, Diego lurched forward. His hands shook as he wrestled with Klaus' belt. Klaus stared down, blinking fast, watching as Diego's fingers struggled to free him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The belt popped free.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Diego sighed.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Klaus mumbled, "N--Uh, nice...nicely d'ne…"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Can you move?" Diego's hand was on Klaus' shoulder.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Klaus leaned into him and shook his head. "L'g…'m'nned…"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"You're </span>
  <em>
    <span>what?</span>
  </em>
  <span>" Diego sounded as if he were frowning. Klaus couldn't tell for sure: his eyes were closed. Though, he hadn't meant to close them. Were they actually closed?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>There was a strange rippling sound, then, "What's taking so damn long?"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Five?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Klaus hummed. "N-N'th'n…"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"He's stuck." Diego said.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Fumbling for Diego's wrist, Klaus let his head fall sideways as he peeled his eyes open, trying to see with the slush his brain had become. Diego went fuzzy in front of him, and behind him, back flat to the back door, was Five. His lip curled at the brains gooping down onto his shoes, but his attention flipped back to Klaus soon enough.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Klaus raised his eyebrows. "Hm. F--Uh, wha's'p?"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"What?" Five's face scrunched.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Klaus huffed. The kid always looked his age when he pouted. Five reminded Klaus of babies. Those things always looked like old men wearing diapers, and especially so when they cried or frowned. And Five, sitting across from him wearing his signature snarl on his too-round baby face,  reminded Klaus </span>
  <em>
    <span>too</span>
  </em>
  <span><em> much</em> of babies. 'Too much' because Five was older than him, nearly double his age, and yet here he was, thirteen and all, wearing shorts and knee-high socks and a baby face and it made Klaus feel all sorts of confused. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>God, he was hungry…</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Wh--Uh? Y'go--got...uh, foo'?" Klaus stared at them, his tongue lolling awkwardly in his mouth and his eyes rolling as if they were googly. "Food? Mhm?"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Five squinted over at him for a moment. Then, his shoulders dropped. "You never make any sense. Anyways," He reached across Diego, grabbing Klaus' sleeve. "Let's get out of here…" A fizzing out sound left Klaus' skin crawling. He hummed under his breath.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Dude!" Diego cried.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Five ground out, "Goddamnit."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Something shrieked. A sharp scrape followed, something deafening and metallic and Klaus wanted to clap his hands over his ears.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The car tipped.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Klaus' stomach rolled into his throat. The nose of the vehicle stared at the river below and plunged. W</span>
  <span>ater rushed to meet them.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Klaus snapped forward, gagging as his belt choked him yet again that night. His scream was swallowed by the shock of cold water spraying him in the face, spritzing it through the cracked-open window.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Behind him, Diego cried, "Dude, just blink us out of here! Come on, come on!"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"I would if I could, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Diego</span>
  </em>
  <span>." Five growled back.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Klaus couldn't see them, but </span>
  <em>
    <span>damn</span>
  </em>
  <span> did they sound frustrated. He would have wondered why, but he was busy trying not to drown on the water hitting his mouth and nose.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"I'm too </span>
  <em>
    <span>tired</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Just--" Five jarred Klaus a bit, grabbing the juncture between his shoulder and neck. Klaus whipped his head around, catching Five's eyes. There was blood on that baby face, looking particularly gruesome. "Don't move." he ordered.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Klaus tried to gesture to his own forehead, but the hand missed its mark and flopped against his sore chest. "Y'g'blood'n you…"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Five's expression softened.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>If Klaus were being honest with himself, it was a terrifying look to receive. Because Five was merciless. He had always been, and he would always be. Even before his little escapade to the apparent future-lypse, Five had always been brutal. All cold eyes and snark and </span>
  <em>
    <span>anger;</span>
  </em>
  <span> that kid had never experienced a day where he had smiled, Klaus would  venture. Even more so a possibility after said apocalypse.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>But, like smiles, there were other emotions Five never shared: pity, sadness, and this…</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>...concern?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Five was concerned.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>And it made Klaus want to puke.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Before he could say anything, Five and Diego blinked away with a snap of Five's powers.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Just like that, he was alone.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Sinking.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Drowning.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>In a <em>river</em>.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Something ripped up Klaus' throat, not quite a cry, not quite a scream. It was a disgusting, animalistic culmination of the two, a marriage between anger and </span>
  <em>
    <span>utter hopelessness </span>
  </em>
  <span>because Five had </span>
  <em>
    <span>left him</span>
  </em>
  <span> to drown.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Klaus' head dropped forward.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He needed to get </span>
  <em>
    <span>out.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>His leg didn't budge. Klaus grabbed his pant leg, jerking wildly, screaming out, "Come on come on </span>
  <em>
    <span>come on come on comeoncomeoncomeon--!</span>
  </em>
  <span>"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Why had Five taken Diego? Why not </span>
  <em>
    <span>him</span>
  </em>
  <span>, the injured person? Was Diego injured, too? Klaus couldn't remember but it didn't </span>
  <em>
    <span>matter</span>
  </em>
  <span> because what was fact was that Five left with </span>
  <em>
    <span>Diego</span>
  </em>
  <span> of all people. Did the two even get along? Did <em>he and Five</em> even get along? Along enough to be worthy of being saved? </span>
  <span>Klaus knew that Five hated him. It wasn't a secret. The little guy couldn't </span>
  <em>
    <span>stand</span>
  </em>
  <span> him and yet, for some reason, Klaus had </span>
  <em>
    <span>trul</span>
  </em>
  <span>y believed that maybe he would have cared enough to blink him out, too. Was Five feigning that concern? Or was that expression pity after all? Was it guilt? Five Hargreeves never experienced guilt, Klaus knew, but maybe </span>
  <em>
    <span>this time</span>
  </em>
  <span> was different. It was different because Klaus being left behind.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Oh, but it <em>was</em> pity, something told Klaus.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Pity, pity, </span>
  <em>
    <span>pity.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Five was looking at Klaus like he was a dog to put down. Like some feral fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>animal</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Some </span>
  <em>
    <span>nuisance.</span>
  </em>
  <span>  He was always the pain in the ass of the family. Always the troublemaker, always a nightmare. Nobody could </span>
  <em>
    <span>stand </span>
  </em>
  <span>him. Allison had Luther. Diego had his prissy detective lady. Vanya had her nasty little rat-looking boyfriend.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>And Five.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He had a </span>
  <em>
    <span>mannequin.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A mannequin whom he loved more than Klaus.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>And rightfully so. Because a mannequin didn't use his money for drugs. A mannequin didn't get in his way. A mannequin would listen, would sit still, would do everything he wanted it to do…</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Her name was </span>
  <em>
    <span>Dolores.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>And his name?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>His name was Number Four.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He was a mere number to his siblings. Just as they should have been to him, too. And yet, they mattered so much to him. They were all he had, at the end of the day. Ben was dead and like a busted signal, only coming through when Klaus was sober enough to hear him. His brothers and sisters were his family, but he was pretty sure they'd all choose something else over him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>So did <em>he</em> really matter? To them? To anyone?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Klaus let his head roll back, leaning against the headrest as he coughed up a sob around the spraying water. He couldn't see, couldn't </span>
  <em>
    <span>breathe</span>
  </em>
  <span>, couldn't move--</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"</span>
  <em>
    <span>Klaus.</span>
  </em>
  <span>"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Klaus jolted. </span>
  <span>He couldn't see. E</span>
  <span>verything was black. </span>
  <span>Had he imagined--?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He felt something snag his arm before the world folded around itself, funneling and twisting and reconstructing around Klaus within a split second. He felt as if he were going to vomit, but even vomiting seemed too daunting a task. Klaus wheezed, clutching his middle as he writhed on the pavement…</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>...the pavement?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He cracked his eyes open. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>In front of him, the road of the bridge stretched on and curved, disappearing behind a row of abandoned buildings. His shadow was trying to creep over there, to land, likely. God knew Klaus wanted to be there, too. But he <em>was</em> on land. He was <em>alive.</em></span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Five! Klaus! </span>
  <em>
    <span>Jesus</span>
  </em>
  <span>, that--Warn me next time! You can't just <em>do</em> that!" Diego's voice was distant but sharp with tension.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"He was going to drown, dumbass! You got a brain? Use it!" Five was closer sounding.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>No, he was right next to him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Right?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Klaus rolled onto his back. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Hovering above him, Five was knelt at his side, his bony little fingers still twisted in the fabric of Klaus' shirt. At Klaus' turn, Five glanced down. "You still breathing?"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"F--Yeah…" Klaus huffed.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>So Five hadn't left him…?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"What?" Five was breathing hard, holding himself up and above Klaus on shaky, elbow-locked arms. He was soaked through, though Klaus images he was, too. He could feel his clothes clinging to him, his hair sticking to his skin, but he couldn't be sure if it were from blood loss or from the river water. "I wasn't going to leave you..."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Klaus frowned.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He spoke aloud. Always speaking his mind. Always rambling. Always annoying. Of course…</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Contrary to popular belief, Klaus, I </span>
  <span>actually </span>
  <span><em>do</em> </span>
  <span>want to keep all of you alive." Five hung his head, then, sighing. Behind him, Diego paced, cutting through their car's headlights every few seconds. But Klaus wasn't entirely focused on him. His vision swam back to Five, who looked utterly </span>
  <em>
    <span>exhausted</span>
  </em>
  <span>, trembling and soaked and hollow, the skin under his eyes bruised with sleep deprivation, the pallor of his skin gone whiter even in the darkness.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Why had he done that? Why had he saved Klaus, knowing it would be a tiresome task? </span>
  <span>Klaus blinked a few times, then asked, "Wh--Uh, why'd'y'save...me?"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"You're really asking that?" His voice was light, as if he thought it were a joke.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>But it wasn't. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Holy shit</span>
  </em>
  <span> it wasn't because Klaus truly believed that Five was leaving him to die and, now, nothing made sense. Because Five <em>doesn't</em> want him dead. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Hey," From behind Five, Diego inched closer with narrower eyes. "You don't think Five was going to leave you there, right?"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Klaus didn't answer.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He </span>
  <em>
    <span>couldn't </span>
  </em>
  <span>answer.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Instead, he snapped his mouth shut.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Something in him wanted  to crack a joke, to dispel the tension and make everything like it was. But he couldn't do that. It would feel wrong to bury himself for his siblings' convenience. Then again, maybe he should? After all, it was </span>
  <em>
    <span>his</span>
  </em>
  <span> own self doubt in them, in </span>
  <em>
    <span>Five</span>
  </em>
  <span>, that had him spiraling in the first place.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Or was it?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Was it really <em>that</em> unfounded?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Klaus…" Five's brow tightened. His lips pressed to a thin line.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>And there it was.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The </span>
  <em>
    <span>pity</span>
  </em>
  <span> from earlier. The--</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"You're my </span>
  <em>
    <span>brother</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Klaus. I wasn't going to let you drown." Five recoiled, pushing himself to sit upright and away from Klaus. He looked…</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Klaus wasn't sure.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Disgusted? Offended? Exhausted? A mix of all? </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Whether it was in himself or in Klaus, he wasn't sure. Five peeled back, careening towards the car on his unsteady legs. Diego took Five's place, kneeling next to Klaus.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"How you holding up, man?" he said. His hand clapped Klaus' shoulder.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He sighed, his lazy gaze drifting to where Five was stood, half-leaning against the car for support. Five shoved his hands in his pockets, then ripped them out to fold his arms, then put them back in his pockets again. Even with his back to him, Klaus could see his jaw twitching shut tight.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Klaus braced himself.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Five whipped around, seething. He jabbed a finger at Klaus. "I was alone for </span>
  <em>
    <span>decades.</span>
  </em>
  <span> I had to bury your </span>
  <em>
    <span>bodies.</span>
  </em>
  <span> I </span>
  <span>buried</span>
  <span><em> your</em> corpse, Klaus. The </span>
  <em>
    <span>last</span>
  </em>
  <span> thing I--" He choked, eyes wild and wide. "There's no way I'd let you die as </span>
  <em>
    <span>pathetically </span>
  </em>
  <span>as </span>
  <em>
    <span>drowning!</span>
  </em>
  <span>" His hands found his hair. He yanked hard. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A clipped sob came up Klaus' throat. He nodded. "I know 'm p'thetic…"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"No</span>
  <em>
    <span>, no</span>
  </em>
  <span>," Five dropped next to Diego. "</span>
  <em>
    <span>No</span>
  </em>
  <span>, that's not what I--<em>Shit</em><em>...</em>" He slumped over himself, looking incredibly small for someone so large, so much larger than life, so much larger than </span>
  <em>
    <span>Klaus'</span>
  </em>
  <span> life. He was going to save the world, was going to stop the so-called incoming apocalypse...</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Five's hands fell to his lap. "I let you die in the future." His voice was raw, but sturdy. "I wasn't going to let you die here, too. So get over yourself, all right? You're sticking around whether you like it or not."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"He wasn't going to leave, Klaus." Diego piped up, voice light. "He had to get me up so I could call the ambulance…"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The ambulance?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Klaus stiffened.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Now, he heard it: a wailing far in the distance. It slowly crept closer. Klaus shook his head as much as he could. "N'n'n--"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Relax, man." Diego hand a gentle hand to his arm. "Allison'll rumor the bastards to let you go as soon as you're patched up, all right?"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Klaus moved to sit up. He got his elbows underneath him before Five barked out, "Don't sit up, moron!"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"'m not'a moron…" Klaus let Five and Diego ease him back to the pavement. His head flopped upwards. A handful of stars blinked down at him as he stared up.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"No, you're right." Five sighed. "You're <em>all</em> morons. Just <em>stay alive</em> for one goddamn week."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>And Klaus tuned out. He heard their fleeting conversation in the background, but instead listened to the screaming ambulance. His ears were ringing, but he couldn't tell what from. Blue and red flickered in his periphery. He couldn't move to see, couldn't glance over because even his eyeballs were aching with a throbbing pressure that was bloating his skull. His nerves were alight with a freezing heat, leaving him to struggle to even </span>
  <em>
    <span>breathe</span>
  </em>
  <span>, let alone look around.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Diego's voice filtered through Klaus' hazy thoughts. "--You with me? Hey, Klaus?"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Mhm." Klaus let his eyes close.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He felt Diego's hand squeeze his arm. "Ambulance is here. Hang on." Klaus leaned into his touch once again. Though this time, it wasn't out of desperation, out of fear of dying. He <em>wanted</em> this, he <em>craved</em> it, practically.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Then, Five's feather-light fingers fell to his shoulder.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Klaus' breathing evened as he gave in to a sudden silence around him. There were muffled doors closing and muted voices, but those things didn't matter. He wanted to focus on the physical weight of Diego and Five's hands because</span>
  <span> then, he wasn't alone. Though, he supposed he was never really alone to begin with.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>To the lovely Irish Bean, who put up with me saying, "Ah! I'm almost done! Oh! I'm almost done! I'm uploading tonight! I'm uploading tomorrow, just you wait!" for like a month? A few weeks? A while... It was a while...</p>
<p>Hope you enjoy this? And definitely let me know if it's not in character, babes, because I <i>really</i> want to practice that. And I want to practice my angsty shit. Or just...everything. I need to practice everything.</p>
<p>Also, I made a <a href="https://itty-bitty-rampaging-committee.tumblr.com/">tumblr</a>. So far, it's just Umbrella Academy shit. Or, really, just <i>Five</i> shit cuz that's my kid. But I'm multifandom with FOX Prodigal Son and NBC Hannibal, so you'll see those gifs eventually, too. It's just that TUA is my current special interest so eh what can you do... I don't control the SI. It controls me.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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